THE NEXT DAY WENT by in a blur. Veronyka and Ronyn continued their cleaning efforts, while Tristan scouted local forests for ideal trees to supply wood for the bridge, and Anders, Latham, and Lysandro helped build a small shed to store their burgeoning supplies and tallied materials.
Before Veronyka knew it, the sun was dipping low in the sky, and Tristan’s patrol was walking back to the campsite.
Veronyka’s muscles ached, and the others complained of splinters and sore backs—but it was in a familiar, companionable way. Their group was in high spirits, and they had the night to themselves before they left the following morning.
She had hoped to find an opportunity that day to hop on Xephyra and sneak down to the cabin, but time had gotten away from her, and she was too tired to fly tonight.
Veronyka was walking next to Tristan at the back of the group as they made their way to camp. “Are we leaving first thing tomorrow?” she asked.
“Probably. We’ve done all we can for now, and I want to get my report to the commander as soon as possible. Why?”
Veronyka wavered. She’d told Tristan a bit about her upbringing, but he didn’t know everything she had discovered relating to Val after the battle at the Eyrie. It was hard to explain what she intended to do—to bury her past and her connection to Val, literally and figuratively—but she knew he’d support her regardless.
“I thought I might go to my old house. Just for a visit. I don’t think my sister lives there anymore, but…”
The last time she’d been in that cabin, she’d left Val—and Xephyra’s cold ashes—inside. And though Tristan didn’t know everything about Veronyka and Val, he knew that Val had poisoned Xephyra, and he’d seen her cruel, calculating ways firsthand in their short acquaintance at the Eyrie. He understood their relationship was fraught and that Veronyka might find solace—or closure—in seeing the home they’d once shared.
Tristan straightened. “There should be time for that. How far is it?”
“Probably an hour both ways on phoenix-back.”
Tristan nodded as he considered. “If we fly before sunrise, we could make it back before the others are up and moving,” he said, indicating the rest of his patrol.
“We?” Veronyka asked, hope mingling with reluctance inside her chest. She relished the idea of not having to step over that threshold alone, but at the same time, she wasn’t sure she wanted Tristan to see the squalor she’d been living in.
“Of course—I mean, if you’ll let me,” he said, slowing his pace as he read the hesitance on her face. “If you’d rather go alone—”
“No,” Veronyka said, deciding on the spot. “No, I wouldn’t.”
“Good.” He smiled in relief. “Then we better get some shut-eye. We’ll leave in a few hours.”
* * *
Ronyn was on watch as they quietly saddled and mounted their phoenixes, the sky dark and still as a held breath as it waited for the coming dawn. Tristan explained that they were visiting Veronyka’s house—the whole patrol knew she was from the area—and Ronyn nodded, seated on a fragment of the crumbling stone wall, his phoenix perched beside him.
Like the journey from the Eyrie to Vayle, Veronyka marveled at how, in what seemed a few short wingbeats, they had traveled a distance that she had slogged for hours on foot.
With every pump of Xephyra’s wings, a lead weight settled heavier and heavier in Veronyka’s stomach. Any moment now that domed roof would become visible between the trees. Now that she was nearly there, Veronyka didn’t know if she had the strength to face it all again.
A low croon reverberated through Xephyra’s chest when she spotted the cabin in the distance, and flashes of confusion and painful memories rippled through the bond.
“It’s okay,” Veronyka mumbled, closing her eyes as nausea overtook her.
It’s okay, Xephyra repeated back to her.
Veronyka didn’t know if they were comforting each other or themselves, but the link between them settled somewhat, and she opened her eyes again in time to see them slow their pace and circle around the cabin, descending until both phoenixes came in to land on the soft grass that filled the clearing.
Veronyka forced slow breaths through her lips, her insides quivering uncomfortably. She didn’t know how long she sat there, steeling herself, but it was Tristan’s voice that drew her back from the brink.
“Veronyka?” he said softly. He was standing next to Xephyra, a hand outstretched. Veronyka knew he wasn’t aware of their link, but she suspected some